


Damien's Daughter

by twiniitowers



Category: The Omen (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twiniitowers/pseuds/twiniitowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...and you thought your adolescence was Hell...</p><p>Follows the Why Me canon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damien's Daughter

**_Some original characters added. Canon characters created by David Seltzer and Joseph Howard for the novelizations and also Seltzer for the screenplay of The Omen. Plus Harvey Bernhard, Stanley Mann, Mike Hodges, for the D: OII script. I own nothing. This is a Hollywood version of a Hollywood story and not meant to be an accurate description of anyone's religious doctrines or beliefs. This was written just for fun. Follows the history of my _ _Why Me?: A Damien: Omen II Story. _ **

**Follows the adventures of Ravender Thorn & her relationship with her Father.  
**

**Born: 6/6/86**

**Told in 6 Parts. (but not 6 chapters)**

**Chicago, Illinois**

**June 6, 1999**

**The Occasion: Damien (37) and Ravender's (13) Birthday Party.**

**_Dear Diary,_ **

**_I really don't want my father to wind up President of the United States. He was an US ambassador. Then he was a senator for two years before becoming CEO of Thorn Industries. I thought he did that backwards, he once told me that there was a reason for everything and for me to mind my own business. He is so strict. I can't stand it. Nothing makes sense. I know my Mother and Father don't sleep together. I just wish they'd divorce like normal people. My father lived with her family, when her father was President, due to his father Robert Thorn going insane and trying to kill him inside a church, his wife mysteriously died in the hospital. Then he went to live with his Uncle Richard, Aunt Ann, and Cousin Mark…but we are NOT allowed talk about any of this. They are all dead. Why? Today is my father and I's birthday party. I couldn't even have my OWN birthday. I had to be born on his. Everyone likes Damien Thorn. Not me. I'm not fond of him at all. He never hugs me; he never tells me he loves me. Why? My mother, who keep in mind, is in a LOVELESS marriage, is the one planning this party at Everest on LaSalle St. Why? Here's what's going to happen…we'll pose for pictures like the happy family we aren't and no one is going to have a good time. It's all for show. I can tell my father hates doing that, so why does he? I know he's having an affair…or affairs. Sometimes, I just cannot stand Damien – excuse me former Senator Damien Thorn. Future President of the fucking United States of America, Damien Thorn…god, I hope not. I don't want to be First Daughter. I don't like ponies. I don't want to be a role model. I don't want to wear make-up. (well, maybe nail varnish). I don't care about teen idol fads. Damien, you better NOT run for President…I'll run away…I fucking swear. Being 13 sucks._ **

**_R. Thorn_ **

**_June 6, 1999_ **

* * *

Ravender Thorn locked her diary and put it in her (also under lock and key) desk drawer. She took her brush off her desk and tried to make her dark hair presentable. She hated dressing up. She'd rather wear her torn jeans and rock band t-shirts. Damien once told her "Metallica is not real music." her mother wanted her to wear dresses and embrace the color pink and be sugar and spice and everything nice, but ended with contradictory statements such as she should keep her grades at 'A' level so she could attend the best universities.

She just wanted to be herself and wearing an age-appropriate black dress with shiny black shoes was not who she was.

She didn't even know what she wanted to be when she grew up. She felt that something was going to happen or might happen in the future. Maybe that dread was knowing she was the only girl in her class not to have-her-time-of-the-month yet and it was starting to piss her off or it could have been something else like having to be at a grown-up party when it was HER birthday.

Her feelings didn't seem to matter to anyone. There was a knock on her door.

"Come in."

"Ravender Thorn, this room or what you call a room, is such a mess."

"I like it this way, mother."

Was it really that big of a deal if her clothes, records, and papers were all on the floor? It was an organized mess and she knew where everything was.

"You still should clean it once in a while. Is that the dress you are wearing to the party?"

"Yes. Why?"

"What happened to the dress I bought you at Marshall Fields?"

"It's pink, frilly, and ugly. I'm NOT wearing that."

"You'd look so much prettier with a little color. Do you want me to help you with your make-up?"

The rule was, and it was from her mother, because she knew that Damien did not care, when she turned thirteen, she could wear cosmetics.

"I'm _NOT_ wearing any make-up. Does balm for chapped lips count?"

"It's your birthday, Ravender. You can do what you like."

She laughed on the inside. "Then please leave so I can finish getting ready. Where's father?"

"Downtown. He'll be meeting us there."

_He's probably having sexual relations with someone other than you._

Ravender thought back to when she looked at her parents school annuals and her mother was fresh-faced, teen magazine pretty, like the kind of young girls who do ads for acne medicine and yet their skin was flawless.

Melissa was on the tennis team and art club at school, with the entire world handed to her being the daughter of the President. She was a few years older than Damien.

How did she wind up being such a robotic political housewife with her meaningless charities? Damien, while attractive, looked stern in his pictures, like a forty-year-old-trapped in a teen body sort of way. Even then it looked like he could have murdered you in your sleep.

_I'd rather jump out the window then go to this party._

But no one heard the young girls cries.

* * *

**An anonymous five-star hotel suite in downtown Chicago**

The woman reached her climax and slowly rested her head on his stomach when the act of pleasing him was over.

"Happy Birthday, Damien." Her legs were like jelly.

He briefly smiled, "Katie B., do you have the gift?"

"Yeah. It's in my purse. I need to ask you a question though."

"Go on."

She reached for her black bra that wound up around the bed post.

"When did you want me to start on _things_?"

"Eager, aren't you?"

"Just ambitious."

It was in her blood; after all her name was Katherine Buher.

"How about this? _When I say so_."

She knew that was the end of the conversation. "All right, Damien. I guess I'll shower and change and meet you and your family at the party."

She kissed him on the lips, knowing that she was one of the few that was able to sleep with the Antichrist. He didn't have to love her, but she hoped that he really appreciated her loyalty.

Katie B. was loyal before she ever met him at Thorn when he was a senior cadet at the military academy and came around under the guise of the Young Men's Business Council, when it was really to have secret meetings with her uncle.

"I'd rather not even bother."

Damien could do without the ever important keep up with false appearances. He absolutely loathed his bore of a wife. When his Father ordered him to procreate with her, it was a bigger battle of the highest order _then when he wanted to pursue..._

_No. I don't want to think about this right now._

"Did you get the calling yet to announce your candidacy?"

"No. I think I'm going to take a nap before I get ready. Leave the gift on the dresser on your way out, Katie B."

"Okay, Damien," She kissed him on cheek, "Sweet dreams."

He didn't even know if he loved his own daughter. She looked just like him with dark hair and she had slight freckles across her nose and on the tops of her cheeks that would disappear with time. She was such a moody little piece of energy. He could allow her existence for the greater good of his dark path, but he did NOT have love anyone that he had no desire to.

* * *

**Everest Restaurant**

**40** **th** **Floor**

The girl clutched at her stomach. Did this have to happen right now? She blocked the pain out of her mind by breathing in and out while her mother went on about useless topics like seating arrangements and place settings.

This whole place was such bullshit. First, their limousine had go into the underground garage, their chauffeur Rick had to ring the buzzer and they were presented tickets for attendance tracking purposes, go to the lobby, get in an elevator, and then having stop on the 39th floor for security measures, go  to the black elevators that finally took you to the fortieth floor.

The signs outside said One Financial Place* as to not let societies misfits who panhandled for loose change for a cup of canned soup from the local diner know what the inside really was.

Ravender supposed she didn't want to be a hypocrite, she liked being financially secure, but she really felt the showing off the money for photo opportunities and secret handshakes that would only boost her father's status was something she personally did not need.

She slouched in the red velvet chair hating her life, but automatically sat up straight and that could mean only one thing. Her father was present. Her stomach cramps hurt like hell. She refused to get up while she rested her head on the green tablecloth.

"Hello, darling." Melissa kissed Damien on the lips.

_D - It can't come soon enough._

Ravender must have started to drift off to sleep because Damien harshly whispered in her ear, "Get up now."

He would have pulled her up by her hair if his wife were not present.

The feeling was mutual because she would have pulled no punches and would have said the 'F' word right to his face if they were having this discussion in the family townhouse.

"I AM UP. Are you happy, father?"

"Don't you take that tone with me."

"Damien, Ravender, you two shouldn't be cross with each other. It's your birthdays, a time to celebrate."

Did her mother have to put a happy face on everything?

"I'm going to the restroom that is if I am allowed to." She was tempted to do the Nazi salute, but refrained from doing so.

Damien gave her his 'get out of my face' look with his piercing eyes and that was the only approval that she needed to at least get a break from her parents, especially her father, for a while.

It didn't take her long for her to enter the beautiful restroom with its green and gray etched marble and solid gold fixtures that she felt the warm and thick dark menstrual blood running down her thighs while she collapsed on the cold floor from the intense abdominal pain. Her last conscious thought was…

_Father, I wish you loved me._

_Why is it that you don't love me?_

* * *

_**Author's Note: *Yes, this is a real exclusive restaurant for the elite in Chicago and that is how you have to enter the building. That is confirmed on their website. However me describing the inside is entirely fictional.** _


End file.
